


Hazy Memories

by kitkatkaylie



Series: Jonmund Summer 2020 [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Day 6, Head Injury, Jonmund Summer 2020, M/M, Past Jon Snow/Ygritte
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26182216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: When Tormund wakes up from a head injury he and his healer are horrified to discover he has lost years worth of memories, with only a sense of warmth and a hazy memory of grey eyes to go with the love he feels in his chest,If only he could remember who the eyes and the feeling belong to...Written for Jonmund Summer 2020 Day 6: Hazy Days
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Series: Jonmund Summer 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893670
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Hazy Memories

There was a pain behind Tormund’s eyes when he woke up, the sort of pain he identified with drinking far too much the previous night. It was strange though, he had none of the other symptoms he would assign with a hangover so bad: there was no nausea, no pervading sense of shame, no taste of alcohol upon his breath. 

There was only the pain and a realisation that he did not know where he was.

The furs were soft beneath him, the air warm, and there was the pervading scent of herbs; so likely it was a healer’s tent. Those were always the warmest, the better for them to ply their trade.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, you had us worried there for a while.” 

Tormund turned his gaze to the source of the voice, a healer he knew was one that Mance trusted. Kia he thought her name was.

“Will take more than a head wound to take down the mighty Tormund Giantsbane.” He grinned up at her.

“If you say so.” She moved closer and peered into his eyes, “It was a nasty bump, what can you last remember?”

Tormund concentrated hard, but memories seemed to slip away like snow melting in his palm. 

“The last thing I remember fully is Mance telling me to put a team together to climb the Wall.” He finally said slowly.

Kia gasped and could not help herself from stepping back, “Are you certain? There is nothing else you can remember?”

He concentrated again, “A sense of warmth perhaps... and a pair of grey eyes... but otherwise nothing.”

“Tormund,” A hand tilted his face up so he was looking straight into her eyes, “It’s been ten years since you climbed the Wall.”

Everything went blank apart from a ringing in his ears. He could hardly believe it, a decade? But what had happened? Where had his memories gone?

“What happened?” He croaked. “What can I not remember?” 

Kia shook her head, “I cannot tell you. If we try and force the memories then you might never regain them.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll take you to your tent, being in a familiar space might help spark your memories to return.”

Tormund could hardly refuse, he had no desire to remain in the healer’s tent any longer, not if he had a tent of his own to retreat to. And if it helped to spark the return of his memory then it could only be a bonus. 

There were fewer people around than there had been in Mance’s camp, more children though, ones who ran through the tents without a fear. It was good to see, good to see that their people were healing. 

“Tormund! That the gods you’re awake, we’ve been so worried.” The last person Tormund expected to see rushed up to them, a large smile on his face and his arms outstretched. 

“What are you doing here, crow? Stopped trailing after Ygritte for a moment?” 

The crow stopped dead and blinked up at him with large, teary eyes, his arms slowly dropping to his side. A pang of guilt filled Tormund’s chest at the sight of the sadness, but he brushed it away.

What did he care for Ygritte’s pet crow? The boy was like as not to betray them anyway. 

The crow blinked at him once more then turned and ran away, weaving through the tents like he belonged there. 

“That was poorly done Tormund.” Kia reproached, “Things have changed since last you remember.”

“Once a crow always a crow.” Tormund declared, his eyes strangely drawn to the backside of the retreating crow, “Even one who clings to Ygritte will always be a crow inside.” 

Kia placed a hand on his arm, “Tormund, Ygritte is dead. She died in Jon Snow’s arms.”

The kernel of guilt grew at those words, more difficult to brush away this time. He knew how horrible it was to lose someone, and now he might just have dredged up those horrible memories again. 

“I should apologise to him.” He mumbled.

“Later.” Kia said, “Give him a chance to calm down first and have the situation explained, then you can apologise.”

That made sense, and so he agreed. He focused on the route they were taking instead of the people, intent on remembering the way to his tent so he would not have to be reliant on others to get around. He was pretty sure he had it by the time they arrived, but Kia told him she would be by to check on him the next day before leaving him by himself.

The tent was strangely laid out, with gaps in the belongings laid out as though someone else’s should have been there. It was almost like someone had hastily moved out of the tent, in too much of a rush or too distraught to cover the obvious lack of their presence.

Tormund wondered who that could have been, he had not been with anyone seriously since the mother of his daughters, and that had been an amicable but definitive parting. 

He wanted to explore more, to see if there were any clues about the life he led, but his eyes felt heavy and exhaustion filled his limbs. He was still healing, still recovering from the head wound, and it would do him no good to injure himself further by pushing it. 

He stretched out on the furs that smelled like another, and felt an inexplicable loneliness. He knew, deep inside, that there should be another person there but for all the ale in the world he did not know who. 

All he knew was that he loved them, deeply and intently, and that he missed having them beside him. 

Tormund’s eyes slid shut, perhaps he would remember when he woke. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I might continue this at some point (maybe with Jon’s POV?) if I get inspired.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


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